Remembering WPI's Heroic Age

The cover story in this
special issue of the WPI Journal is one I have been thinking about
writing for some time. I'm grateful to the organizers of this year's
celebration of the WPI Plan's 25th anniversary for giving me the impetus to
finally tackle it.

The story of how the Plan came to be is intriguing for anyone who
was not on campus (and even many who were) in the late 1960s, a time
of incredible change at WPI. How was it that a small, traditional
engineering college was able to turn itself around and become,
virtually overnight, one of the most innovative and successful
institutions of technological higher education in the country? What
combination of circumstances and human capital made this seemingly
impossible feat possible?

The drive to answer those questions for myself was behind my
interest in writing this story. The answers proved well worth the time
and energy the article entailed, as did the opportunity to spend some
time talking to the remarkable men who drafted the Plan -- the seven
surviving members of the now famous Planning Committee originally
appointed in 1968 by the late Harry P. Storke, WPI's 10th
president.

The title of the article, "A Miracle at Worcester," makes
reference to Catherine Drinker Bowen's 1966 book, Miracle at
Philadelphia, which recounts the events of the Constitutional
Convention of 1787. While it may seem a bit audacious to compare the
Plan's creation to one of the most critical events in U.S. history,
the analogy is apt. Like the writing of the Constitution, the drafting
of the Plan -- certainly the most important and pivotal episode in
WPI's recent history -- was accomplished in a climate of
turmoil and change by a small group of dedicated, passionate, creative
individuals - each with his own beliefs and biases. That group, the
faculty Planning Committee, was determined to craft a sound, workable
framework for the future, one that evolved from a set of clearly
defined, well-reasoned principles and one that was designed to stand
the test of time and the inevitable resistance that greets any new
idea. Indeed, looking back from a distance of a quarter century, the
birth of the Plan seems nothing short of miraculous.

This spring, I was pleased to see that I am not the only writer who
has found a parallel between the accomplishments of the Planning
Committee and the achievements of America's founding fathers. On
April 23, WPI celebrated the birth and implementation of the Plan with
Commemoration Day, an event that brought together many of the dozens
of individuals who worked to draft the Plan and turn it into a living,
breathing program. As the day wound down, John Zeugner, professor of
history, rose to make some concluding remarks.

Shapers of two Heroic ages: top, the signers of the Declaration of
Independence; bottom, from left, Planning Committee members Bill
Grogan, Charles Heventhal, Steve Weininger, Jack Boyd and Roy
Seaberg.

"'Another of our friends of '76 is gone, my dear Sir....We
too must go, and that ere long,'" Zeugner began, quoting Thomas
Jefferson's letter to John Adams. "'I believe we are under
half a dozen at present; I mean the signers of the
Declaration. Yourself, Gerry, Carroll and myself are all I know to be
living. I am the only one South of the Potomac....'"

Zeugner told of the correspondence between Jefferson and Adams that
began in 1813, "three years after Jefferson left the presidency,
having won it from Adams in 1800. So, two men who had made a
revolution and a new republic, whose political campaigns against one
another, for sheer viciousness of personal attacks, make the campaigns
of this century seem genteel by comparison, began again a secret
letter correspondence that blossomed over the next 13 years into a
remarkable ex-presidential colloquy.

"The exchange of letters lingered over characteristics of
Indians, Christ's spirituality, British politics, proper ethics,
old partisan accusations, grandchildren's vanity, and the certain
knowledge that by explaining themselves to each other they were
participating in some astounding coda to the Founding Generation. The
letters are darted with Greek and Latin sentences and French
exhortations. Their erudition stuns. Their thoughtfulness amazes. And
throughout, there is a jocular consideration of imminent death, which
occurred magically for both men on July 4, 1826, the 50th anniversary
of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

"In his last letter to Adams, in late March 1826, Jefferson
wrote that his grandson Thomas Randolph would like to pay Adams a
visit. 'I must ask for him permission to pay to you his personal
respects. Like other young people, he wishes to be able, in the winter
nights of old age, to recount to those around what he has heard and
learnt of the Heroic age preceding his birth, and which of the
Argonauts particularly he was in time to have seen. It was the lot of
our early years to witness nothing but the dull monotony of colonial
subservience, and of our riper ones to breast the labors
and perils of working out of it. Theirs are the Halcyon calms
succeeding the storm which our Argosy had so stoutly
weathered. Gratify his ambition then by receiving his best bow, and my
solicitude for your health by enabling him to bring me a favorable
account of it. Mine is but indifferent, but not so my friendship and
respect for you.'

"Twenty-five years out from the founding of the WPI Plan, it
does seem, in the poor parallels the mind constructs, that the
Planning Committee, the Implementation Committee, and the undoubted
captain of the Plan Argosy, Bill Grogan, constitute, in fact, a kind
of Heroic age," Zeugner concluded. "They did indeed triumph over
a dull colonial educational subservience, did indeed breast the labors
and perils of working out of its monotony and stasis. They did provide
this institution more than a few Halcyon days (indeed, they saved and
grew it). And though the Institute's health at the moment may be
indifferent, to use Jefferson's terms, not so its deep friendship
and respect for them."

While the cover story focuses on the individuals who were most
intimately associated with the Plan's creation - President Storke,
President George Hazzard, Dean Cookie Price and the members of the
Planning Committee - many, many other people played roles, both small
and large, in the story of the birth of the Plan. They include the
many faculty members who shared the Planning Committee's passion about
education and its conviction that WPI could, and should, be a better
and more innovative institution. They offered their ideas, their
opinions, their time and their unwavering support as the process of
shaping the Plan moved forward. Many went on to become officers and
foot soldiers in the more than decade-long campaign known as
Implementation, the monumental job of turning the educational program
approved by the faculty in 1970 into a workable system. You will read
more about that process in the second half of the cover story, to be
published in early 1997.

In addition, many faculty members, students,
administrators, trustees and alumni helped shape the Plan by taking
part in two Planning Days in 1968 and 1969 and by serving on a
multitude of subcommittees that helped the Planning Committee flesh
out the details of the Plan. Their efforts on behalf of the university
were invaluable, and they had the satisfaction of contributing to one
of the most important community efforts in WPI's history.

The bottom line of all this is that no matter how careful a job of
research a writer might do, or how diligent one might be about giving
credit where it is deserved, there will always be those unwittingly
and unintentionally left out of the story. To those many individuals,
I apologize. I invite them to tell their stories and relate their
memories of the Plan's birth on the Letters pages of future issues
of the Journal.